I'm used to it.
This breaks my heart.
The pain that echoes in these few words."I'm used to it."
They whisper as they stop themselves mid sentence and turn away shyly."I'm used to it."
He grunts as he's shoved around the hall."I'm used to it."
She sighed as they broke her belongings."I'm used to it."
They cry as Miss Popular and The Jock laugh in their faces."I'm used to it."
He shakily spoke when they call him names."I'm used to it."
She sobs into her arms infront of her Shrink."I'm used to it."
They yell to no one, because no one listens properly.They're used to not being listened to.
They're used to;
being shoved around,
broken,
laughed at,
called names, and
left alone in a time of need.No one should say these words easily.
It shows just how easy humans effect one another,
And that's plain old sad.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
Poetry// Petrichor // // 🌏 the pleasant smell of earth after rain💧// Est. 2014 ~ 20.. Copyright LittleAussieDreamer (Alannah Mills) 2020